


Divide

by mid_sweettalk



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: AU, F/F, Multi, changed ages around to fit how i wanted so things probably won't match up with canon a lot, jsyk, kid soldier au, more of a fareeha au case study than a shipfic, so don't yell at me for it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-25
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2019-04-07 19:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14088405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mid_sweettalk/pseuds/mid_sweettalk
Summary: Maybe if she had been born back When, she could have had a normal childhood, but Fareeha knew better. Born into the Omnic Crisis after most of humanity had been forced to hide in the Undergrounds, a "normal childhood" now meant choosing a division to join at age twelve and there learning how to best serve humanity. Fareeha had always known that she was born to lead and protect, so there was only one choice for her: Overwatch division.But the road to victory is a tricky one, Fareeha has to learn. Just applying to Overwatch in the first place brings multiple obstacles for her, and there is still more to come. When the pressure is put on the youngest generation to save the world, will she be able to step up and lead like she had always dreamed of doing?





	Divide

 

Fareeha had known she was going to join Overwatch since… well, she’d always known. In this world, it was the best way to help people, and that was all Fareeha wanted to do.

Her mother had told her that the motto of the police force back When had been “to serve and protect.” Ana had said that she’d kept that in mind on every mission, that her goal was to serve and protect all the humans and good omnics in the world, especially Fareeha. So, of course, Fareeha wanted to do the same.

Her mother’s stories were not meant to inspire her to join Overwatch in any capacity, much less its armed forces. They were always tinged with warning, instead. “I want you to have the childhood my mother had back When, one free from the worries of war.” She’d said that one often. “You can join any of the other divisions, whichever you wish, just not Overwatch.”

Once Fareeha reached the age where she knew how to talk back, her response was usually, “I don’t want to be a useless kid! I want to help people!”

Ana would shake her head and say to ask again when she was older, closer to the admission age. “Next year.”

Every year.

Fareeha received top marks in all of her classes each year, excelling in every subject, but putting more focus into her physical education than most of the children her age did. She would never settle, always pushing herself until she had the highest score or the fastest time in each activity. She prided herself on the fact that she could intimidate most of the boys her age and older.

A shadow started to creep up on her, though. As she got older, she started noticing more and more that the majority of compliments given her were comparisons to her mother.

“You’re going to outrank your mom someday, aren’t you?”

“I bet Captain Amari’s proud you want to follow in her footsteps, huh?”

“Are you planning on becoming a sniper, like her? I’m sure you’d excel at it!”

Fareeha quickly learned to smile and brush off these questions with answers one would expect of a small, ambitious child. She never told anyone that no, in fact, her mother did not want Fareeha to follow her path at all. She would probably not even sign off on her admission to the Overwatch academy when Fareeha turned twelve, if she let her apply at all.

So here she was, two weeks away from her twelfth birthday. With it being so close, all of her teachers had been asking her, lately, if she’d filled out her division application yet. “I’ve had it filled for months,” she’d answered, smiling at their praise and best wishes instead of telling them that it still didn’t have her mother’s signature.

With classes done for the day, Fareeha stopped in the tunnel outside the door to their dorm. She stared down at the application in her hands, turned to the last page where, at the bottom, the signature line lay. Fareeha forced herself to take a deep breath when she noticed that her hands were starting to clench and crumple the paper. Now holding the application packet gently by the corner, she swiped her free hand over the ID reader and entered the dorm.

“Mama?” she called out as she kicked off her shoes.

“Hello, _habibti_ , welcome home!” Ana said, much closer than Fareeha had been expecting.

She turned to look and saw that her mother was sitting on the couch in the living room. She must have had a strange look on her face, because Ana quickly started talking again.

“I just have something to talk to you about, Fareeha. You’re not in trouble. Come sit.” She patted the space next to her on the couch.

Her tone was serious, but not angry, so Fareeha believed her. Serious was often not much better than angry, however, not in this world, and so believing didn’t help her relax. Nonetheless, she sat down next to her mother, holding the Overwatch application to her side so as not to draw attention to it. “Are… you leaving?”

The sadness in Ana’s smile was the only answer Fareeha needed, but she replied anyway. “Unfortunately so, _habibti_.” She wrapped an arm around Fareeha’s shoulders and pulled her close to kiss the top of her head. “So, you’ll be on your own for a while, but you can always go stay with Nahla’s family, if you’d like. I’m sorry I’ll miss your birthday, Fareeha, especially your twelfth.” She ran a hand through Fareeha’s hair and kissed her head again.

Fareeha, meanwhile, honestly wasn’t very surprised. It had been almost two years since her mother’s last deployment, yes, but she was used to having to say goodbye with a moment’s  notice. She was used to the missed birthdays and staying alone.

“If we had lived back When,” Ana used to say before she left, “there would be so many different people who could take care of you in my absence. There was a foster system that would take in kids without parents, but in the Undergrounds, if something happens to me, you and our friends are all you’ll have, until you join a division.”

Fareeha had learned early on how to take care of herself, how to find Nahla’s family’s dorm on her own if she was truly in need of something. So, no, she wasn’t surprised. Instead, she realized that this would be the last chance she had to ask for her mother’s signature before her twelfth birthday.

Fareeha stared straight ahead as she slowly said, “What if I joined a division, instead?”

Ana’s arm tensed around Fareeha’s shoulders. “And which division do you want to join?” She slowly pulled away so she could look down and meet Fareeha’s eyes. “I’ve heard excellent things from your teachers; you could have your pick.”

Fareeha could tell that her mother already knew what she was going to say. She was trying to be hopeful—she could see it in her eye, hear it in her tone. But she knew that this was what she wanted, even what she needed. Fareeha was born to help people, and this was the best way to do that.

So, Fareeha said, “Overwatch,” and held out the application.

The silence stretched on for what felt like forever, but once Ana spoke, Fareeha wished it had never ended.

“You are not joining the Overwatch division, Fareeha.”

At the shocked look on Fareeha’s face, Ana stood up and turned away, crossing her arms.

“But…” Fareeha faltered, looking down as her clenched fists rumpled the paper of the application again. “You said, every time, that I could ask when I was closer to the application age. I’m turning twelve! I can apply now!”

Her mother shook her head, still turned away. “You can choose any other division, Fareeha, but you are forbidden to join Overwatch, armed forces or otherwise. I will not sign the application.”

Fareeha heard a small tap. Looking down, she saw that her last name, where she had signed it in her best penmanship possible, was now smudged beyond recognition. She didn’t know when she’d started crying, but that was the last straw.

“Why?” Fareeha stood up. “You know I’d be good at it. I’d be the best soldier! I could even be a captain like you! My teachers say I’m a natural-born leader. Why won’t you let me join?”

Ana turned her head ever-so-slightly in her direction. “I’ve told you many times, Fareeha. You need a normal child—”

“Nobody here can have a life without war!” And she was sick of pretending that it was possible. Ana turned to fully face her, at that. “The omnics control most of Above, and who knows how long it’ll be before the only humans and good omnics left on the planet are in the Undergrounds? And what if the omnics find them? Nobody here can forget about those things! I can never have a normal childhood!”

Did Ana think she didn’t wish things were different? Didn’t she know how much Fareeha used to wish that they had lived back When, or far in the future after the battle for humanity had been won (if it could be won)? She could have grown up knowing her father, with all three of them being together instead of him being… wherever he was. Maybe she could have been a musician or one of those school coaches when she grew up.

But that wasn’t the world they lived in.

“This _is_ my normal childhood. Normal children choose a division to join, and some normal children have to train with Overwatch to protect and serve the good of humanity.” Fareeha planted her feet, stood her ground like Ana had taught her. Chin raised to her mother, she held out the tear-stained application packet once more. “Please, Mom, sign for me. This is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Fareeha could feel the tears streaming down her face as she pleaded. Ana had to see how much she wanted this, how much this meant to her. She’d do anything if Ana would just—

“I’m sorry, Fareeha. You don’t want this life.”

Her mother wouldn’t look her in the eye as Fareeha’s arm dropped back down to her side. Ana reached down behind the couch and pulled out a duffel bag Fareeha hadn’t noticed.

“I have to leave now, _habibti_. I’m sorry I don’t have more time.” She slung the duffel strap over her shoulder and started walking towards the door. “You don’t have to choose a division right away, Fareeha; you know you have until you turn fourteen, so just… take your time and think about which of the others you’d like to join, instead. I’ll be back in about a month.” Ana opened the door. “I love you.”

Fareeha didn’t answer, tears streaming down her face and application crumpled in her hand. She felt… betrayed, by her own mother, and didn’t know how to form words around it.

After a moment, Ana sighed and left, shutting the door behind her.

Fareeha collapsed to her knees. It knocked the breath out of her and released the first sob. She sat there for a long while, crying over her wrinkled Overwatch application.

Why couldn’t her mother understand, being an Overwatch agent herself? Everyone else seemed to think that Captain Amari should be encouraging her daughter to join the same division, so why was she so against it? Did she just not want Fareeha to be happy?

After having punched the ground a few times and leaving her knuckles slightly bloody, Fareeha resigned herself to a small dinner and an early bedtime.

* * *

 

Fareeha’s best friend in the Egyptian Underground was the complete opposite of her mother. Nahla would help her train, encourage her to push herself, and dream about the day they would enter the Overwatch divisional academy together. She was outspoken and persuasive, but not in the authoritative way Ana was.

Nahla wasn’t very physically strong, but she was the smartest person Fareeha knew. She could find a way to engineer anything into working condition, even with the limited Underground resources. She could also talk her way out of anything, which is what helped her get special parts she needed for her big “projects.” A majority of these projects ended with explosions of some sort, but injuries were a rare occurrence.

But she was always there for Fareeha, always knew how to cheer her up or comfort her. So, a week after her mother’s departure, when a knock on the door led to the worst news possible, Fareeha knew where to go.

It usually took her an hour to make her way through the maze of tunnels and reach the complex Nahla’s dorm was housed in, but this time she made the trip in forty minutes. Nearing the right area, Fareeha picked up her pace, sprinting and squeezing through a crowded corridor until she came out on the other side. She skirted around the edge of a circular junction and found the correct connecting tunnel to take her to Nahla. Just a few minutes later, she was outside the al-Sayed dormitory.

The door was already open, and both Nahla and her mother, Hadeer, were waiting for her with tears streaming down their own faces.

_Of course_ , Fareeha realized. Nahla’s older brother, Seif, was an Overwatch agent on her mother’s team….

The three of them held each other as they cried.

* * *

 

The next day, all of Fareeha’s teachers asked her where her father was, and when she replied with, “the Canadian Underground,” they all bore the same look on their faces.

_Yeah, that’s right_ , she wanted to scream at them in place of their silence. _I haven’t talked to him since I was three years old, I can’t remember what his voice sounds like, and he’s probably not even alive anymore!_

But she didn’t do that. Instead, she took their condolences and offers of help if she “needed anything” in silence. No one offered her a room, though, because no one had one to give.

That evening, she determinedly took her application packet to the divisional information complex, where she put on her best “adult” face and approached the first available agent. “Hello,” she said after he introduced himself, “I have the application for the Overwatch division filled out, except for the signature page. It got a bit stained and, therefore, un-sign-able.” Her words sounded stilted to her, but she kept going through her grimace. “Would you mind retrieving for me a clean signature page so that I may turn in the application on my birthday?”

“ _Overwatch?_ ” the man called Amr asked a bit incredulously. “Well, I suppose you do fit the part.” Fareeha assumed he meant her physical fitness and decided to take it as a compliment.

He held out his hand for Fareeha’s application, so she handed it over. It was still flipped to the signature page, so he quickly turned to the front. His eyes widened immediately. “Miss Amari, I see. Trying to follow in your mother’s… well….” Amr seemed to recognize too late how badly he’d misspoken, but Fareeha tried not to let it bother her.

“I want to protect and serve the good that’s left in the world. Since my mother is— _gone_ ,” she hadn’t expected to get so choked up on that word, “and my father is unreachable, I am independent and will sign for myself. I’m not trying to follow in my mother’s footsteps; I’m trying to make my own path, to finish what she started. To do _more_.”

The look Amr was giving her right now was one of pity, and Fareeha hated it.

“Look, kid, I don’t want you to make a choice this big when your emotions are running high. Why don’t you take the…” he quickly checked the application again, “week left until your birthday to really think about it, and if you still want to join, I’ll give you that clean signature page.”

Fareeha’s fists clenched again. She was so sick of adults telling her what she wanted and didn’t want. But the day had been exhausting, putting up with everyone’s bad energy, and so she didn’t feel like fighting with him. She merely nodded and left to begin the half-hour trek back to her dorm.

Her dorm. Only hers.

Fareeha told Nahla about the entire incident the next day, when all the different Egyptian complexes’ classes met in the main hall for lunch. She had expected Nahla to make fun of Amr, sympathize with her, and encourage her as always to keep her head up and remember that they’d be in Overwatch together, soon.

Instead, Nahla was looking strangely at her food, her brow furrowed. “I’m not joining Overwatch division anymore, Fareeha,” she said slowly. “My brother—and your mom—died. My dad died fighting years ago. They were murdered, all of them. My mom, she doesn’t have anyone else. There’s no way I could risk my life like that, now that it could mean I would leave her alone.”

Nahla took a breath, seemingly avoiding looking at Fareeha’s wide eyes, and continued. “I’m going to join the AgriSci division, make sure I can keep my mom and everyone else fed. And I think you should join another division, too, something like Education so you could be a fitness instructor, maybe…”

Fareeha couldn’t stop the tears this time, either. Not even her best friend was on her side, anymore, it seemed. No more Team Nahleeha taking Overwatch by storm together. Her mother was right—once she was gone, Fareeha really was on her own.

“You can do what you want, Nahla,” Fareeha said with as much coldness and venom as she could muster in her voice, “but I’m joining Overwatch, and I’m ending the Omnic Crisis, once and for all. I’m going to help save humanity. You’ll see.”

She didn’t wait for a response or even look at Nahla before turning to walk out.

When her birthday came, she didn’t even bother going to classes. The first thing she did was go back to the divisional information complex and head straight for Amr.

“I would like a blank signature page for the Overwatch divisional application, please, sir,” she said, firmly but politely.

Amr looked down at her with shock in his eyes for a moment, and then Fareeha could see him contemplating the situation and her seriousness. She made sure not to flinch even the slightest, meeting his gaze head on. It took a moment, but eventually, Amr sighed and walked to a back room.

Minutes later, he returned with her application and a blank signature page. “If you’re truly sure this is what you want to do, Miss Amari, then who am I to stop you?”

Amr led them over to a desk, where he picked up a pen and passed it to her. Fareeha quickly placed the paper on the desk and signed and dated the appropriate spots, not caring so much about her handwriting this time. She then removed the old signature page from the packet and replaced it with this one, pressing the micro-staple in the corner to attach it.

Fareeha held the completed application out to Amr. “Thank you for your assistance. If you could please turn in this application for me, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Amr nodded once. “Of course, Miss Amari. Best of luck on your acceptance into the program.”

Fareeha stayed and watched as Amr placed the application in the 3D scanner, where it manifested a digital copy onto the holo-board behind it. Amr opened a handheld menu and quickly entered his information, and Fareeha soon saw the application fly off towards a destination labeled, “OVWSWZ.”

Amr turned and only then noticed that Fareeha hadn’t left. “All right, Miss Amari, I’ll contact you whenever they respond to—”

The holo-board dinged behind him, making him jump a bit. He pressed a button on the holo-menu, and the message opened only to his eyes. He blinked, and the white disappeared from in front of his face; he was now staring at Fareeha with a slightly astonished look on his face. “Well, then.” He cleared his throat. “Congratulations, Miss Fareeha Amari. You are officially an Overwatch divisional trainee. You depart tonight at 2300.”

Fareeha felt the shock slowly fade away after a few moments, but with everything that had happened the last few weeks, she couldn’t really muster up a smile. Happy birthday, indeed.


End file.
